


A Future Past

by Homeo (Wherefore_art_thou_Homeo)



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: (chrobin is canon but not the focus), (my parent ships are mentioned), Gen, you cannot convince me that the awakening second gen is not one giant family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 06:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15382446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wherefore_art_thou_Homeo/pseuds/Homeo
Summary: Lucina's brother Morgan was the last to die in the time she fled. And she was the one who took his life.





	A Future Past

Lucina paused at the base of the steps. She heard her army – her friends, the only survivors – come to a halt behind her. She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists, gripping Falchion’s hilt as tightly as she could.

She turned around to face them all, and found Owain at the front of the pack, taking a step towards her, his brow furrowed.

Poor Owain. He’d barely gotten a wink of sleep since they day they’d left Ylisstol. His face was ashen. He looked half-dead himself. But yet his voice was steady as he spoke to her.

“Lucina,” he said, quiet but strong. “All of us would understand if you wish to stay behind.”

Lucina nodded once, taking care to keep her expression as flat as possible. If she let herself falter for even a moment, she would never regain her composure.

“Thank you,” she replied. “But I think it has to be me. I don’t want him to be afraid.”

Her hands started to shake. She turned away before Owain could say anything more.

Lightning crackled in the black clouds overhead. Lucina turned her head upwards, fixing her gaze to the top of the long staircase.

He was up there. She was going to bring him back.

It was as simple as climbing these steps.

She’d made promises. So many promises. She’d broken too many of them already.

She’d broken this one, this most important one, this last promise to her father, already. She clung to this last hope of reparation. She could not allow herself to hesitate, to doubt herself, for even a moment.

“March,” she called out, fighting to keep her voice level.

Lucina took the first step up the staircase. Her army followed close behind. Owain fell in step behind her, supporting Brady as he walked. He had taken a hit to his leg a few days previously, and, wanting to save his staves’ power for the others, had neglected to heal himself. Lucina and Brady had eventually persuaded him to take a vulnerary, but he still walked with a limp. Lucina slowed slightly to allow them to stay close.

As much as she wanted to look back at her oldest friends, to gain some modicum of reassurance from them, she could not allow herself to turn back, even for a moment.

The altar loomed into view – and there he was.

He was kneeling before it. Lucina pretended she didn’t recognize him yet.

She heard one of the girls – Cynthia, maybe, or Nah – choke back a sob. A lump grew in Lucina’s throat.

When Lucina reached the top of the stairs, she held out one hand, ordering the march to stop. She took a few steps forward on her own, her hands shaking.

He wasn’t moving at all. He sat on his knees, head bowed, arms limply at his sides, his back to Lucina. He wore their mother’s coat. It was still far too big for him. She recalled the first time he’d ever tried it on, back when they were children. His arms hadn’t even reached halfway through the sleeves.

Lucina opened her mouth but no sound came out. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried again.

“Morgan,” she called out. “Morgan, it’s me.”

Nothing. He didn’t move a muscle.

Lucina forced a smile and took another step forward.

“Hey,” she said gently. “You’re safe, all right? I’m here – everyone is here. Owain, Brady, Cynthia – Everyone.”

Morgan still didn’t react. Lucina moved close enough to touch him, reached out to touch his shoulder…

“Lucina,” Owain warned her, but she disregarded him. She knelt at her brother’s side and rested her hand on his back. One arm twitched.

“We’re here, okay?” Lucina’s eyes stung. “Your family. We’re here. You’re safe.”

He didn’t react. She closed her eyes again and forged ahead.

“We… have to go back,” she said. “Remember what Uncle Frederick told us? There’s a way we can fix all of this. We can go back and stop all of this before it even starts, remember?”

She opened eyes now shining with tears and shook him by the shoulder. His head lolled. She couldn’t see his face.

“…Come with us,” she whispered. “Please, Morgan. There’s still time. You can still walk away from all this. We can still save you too.”

She bowed her head and listened to the silence. Tears filled her eyes, threatening to spill out, blurring her vision.

And suddenly, he spoke.

“…Lucina,” Morgan croaked.

She whipped her head up to look at him. He still hadn’t moved, but he was shaking slightly. She began to say his name, but he cut her off.

“Lucy,” he said. His voice was completely flat. Lucina felt cold wash over her.

“You think there’s a way to fix this?” that voice – Morgan’s but also very, very much not his – continued. “You think you can fix me?”

Somebody suddenly pulled Lucina backwards. Where she had been seated just a moment before, deadly spikes had emerged from the ground. Morgan’s gloved right hand was extended towards her, palm down.

Owain stepped around Lucina and stood protectively in front of her. His sword was sheathed. His hands were raised warily in front of him.

“Morgan,” Owain wavered. “Please. It’s us.”

Lucina felt a hand on her back. She looked up and saw Brady standing behind her. He extended a hand and she took it. He helped her to her feet and stepped back again. She placed herself between him and Morgan, motioning for Brady to stay back.

Morgan raised his head and lowered his arm, letting it fall to the side again. The spikes retracted. Lucina’s heart was in her throat and her right hand gripped Falchion’s hilt once again.

“You think,” Morgan said, “that there’s a way out of all this?”

A tense moment passed. Lucina spoke again.

“Yes,” she said. “I do. I have to.”

His right hand twitched again. Lucina eyed it and then went on.

“If we go back… we can see our parents again,” she said. “All of us. We can get our families back. And we can save them from the fates they have met.”

Morgan slowly moved to get to his feet. Lucina held herself in place with extreme difficulty.

Morgan kept his back to them as he stood up. Lucina noticed with horror that his left hand was missing – and a bandaged, bloody stump was in its place.

His left hand had borne the Brand of the Exalt. Lucina’s stomach turned.

Morgan spoke then, without turning around.

“There’s no way out of this,” he slurred. “Not for me.”

Before Lucina could react, Morgan was standing directly in front of her. He blood froze. She saw Owain jump aside, heard his sword leave its sheath. She held a hand out to stay him.

Morgan looked up at her with those brown eyes – exactly the same as their mother’s. He didn’t move at all for a moment. Lightning crackled at his fingertips.

“There’s only one way out of this for me, Lucy,” Morgan said.

Lucina realized there were tears in his eyes.

Morgan’s eyebrows contracted – and for a moment he was right in front of her – her baby brother, who she’d sworn to protect – who she’d promised her parents she’d keep safe – but he’d run, why had he run, _why_ had he chosen this path…?

For a moment, she beheld her brother, himself entirely. He looked at her, is expression desperate, tears sliding down his cheeks.

“Please,” he wavered. “Lucy. _Please._ ”

Lucina leapt aside, narrowly dodging his attack. The bolt of lightning crackled past her, towards the rest of her army.

“GET BACK!” she bellowed at them, keeping her eyes on Morgan. “All of you – take cover! Find someplace to hide!”

Owain sprinted to her side again, sword readied, pointing at his little cousin.

“Lucina, go,” Owain growled. “You shouldn’t have to do this.”

Lucina drew Falchion, blinking tears out of her eyes.

“It should be me,” she breathed. “He’s scared. He’s so scared...”

Morgan’s hand was tangled in his hair – the stump of the other dangling at his side. His shoulders heaved.

“ _Please,_ ” he cried. “ _Please,_ Lucy, don’t let me hurt anyone anymore…”

Lucina sobbed involuntarily. Morgan curled in on himself and screamed, stumbling and nearly falling. His right hand struck out again and another volley of spikes leapt from the floor, missing Lucina and Owain by a wide margin. Lucina’s heart ached.

“Morgan,” she whispered to herself. “I’m so… so sorry.”

She waited, dodging all of his attacks with ease, waiting for a window, a gap in his defenses wide enough for her to slip through.

And soon – far too soon – one presented itself.

Morgan struck out with his most powerful attack yet. It sent him stumbling back, threw him off balance.

Lucina let out a roar as she charged forward, Falchion pointed forward, its deadly blade directed at her brother’s heart.

She closed her eyes tight before it made contact.

Falchion’s blade slipped between her brother’s ribs as if he were insubstantial as air.

His little body shuddered. The stump of his left arm reached up, searching for her face. She wrapped her free arm around him and buried her face in his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she wept. “I’m so so sorry...”

“Th-thank you, Lucy,” he croaked.

Morgan’s knees buckled. He choked. Lucina lowered them both to the stone floor of the altar. She pulled Falchion from his body – he groaned, coughed again, eyes closed in agony – and held him close.

“Brady,” she wept. “Heal him. Please.”

Morgan’s hand scrabbled at the front of Lucina’s armor, looking for something to hold onto. Lucina gave him her hand and he held it as tight as he could. He coughed again and blood splattered over his pale face.

“BRADY!” Lucina screamed. She leaned Morgan against her and stroked his hair. “BRADY, PLEASE!”

Brady was kneeling by her side. He held his staff over Morgan and muttered an incantation. Lucina kept her eyes on her brother, wiping away the blood, talking to him softly, telling him he was going to be all right.

But the wound didn’t close. Lucina looked up at Brady sharply, and found him white as a sheet.

“It… it ain’t working,” he breathed. “My healing… it ain’t taking.”

Lucina’s heart sank.

“No,” she wavered. “No, gods, no…”

Morgan coughed. Her attention snapped back onto him.

“Try again,” she begged. “Just… try it again. Please!”

Brady did not argue. He held the staff up and incanted again. The light surrounded Morgan, flowed into his wound – and then vanished. The wound, however, remained.

“Lucina,” Morgan croaked. “It’s not going to work on me anymore.”

She looked into his face and found him smiling. Tears and blood shone on his cheeks. He coughed again.

“Naga’s magic… won’t work on someone like me,” he said. “I’m a lost cause.”

She held him tight and kissed the top of his head.

“I love you,” he said.

She choked. “I love you,” she managed. “I love you so much.”

“If you… if you really can go back,” he said. “Would you… would you tell Mom and Dad… I love them too?”

“Of course. Of course I will.”

“I’m sorry.” Morgan’s eyes closed. “I’m sorry… everyone.”

Lucina held him closer, pressing her face into his hair. She closed her eyes and rocked him a little – like their parents had, when they were little, when their greatest fear had been the dark.

She held Morgan’s hand until it went limp in hers. She listened to his breathing until it stopped completely. She allowed herself to cry for one more minute.

When she raised her head again, her face was set. She stood up, cradling Morgan in her arms. He weighed so little.

The first eyes she met were Owain’s. He was crying, pale – in shock – but he fought to keep steady, and to support Brady, who was sobbing against his shoulder.

Beyond them, the rest of their army. A group of people that she and Morgan had grown up with. Friends since childhood, nearly all of them. Splintered now, weeping and leaning on each other. Nah – poor, tiny Nah – was curled up as small as she could go, head resting on her knees, leaning against Yarne, seated, dazed, beside her. Inigo was sobbing, head in hands, with Severa nearby, face pale and drawn as she attempted to remain composed. Cynthia was on her knees, pounding the stone floor, screaming incoherently. Kjelle was doing her best to console Noire, who was shivering, hugging herself, rocking back and forth. Laurent stood alone, eyes unfocused, staring into the distance. Gerome stood at the back of the group, masked face turned towards the ground, hands in fists.

Lucina took a deep breath and spoke to Owain.

“We’ll bury him,” she said. “It will be our last act in this accursed time.”

Owain nodded once. He picked up Falchion and cleaned the blood from it. Lucina looked away.

“On,” she said, simply. And slowly, with much stumbling, they moved.

\- - -

Lucina could not remember a time without Morgan. She was about three years older than him, and her earliest memory was that of the first time she had ever held him. Or, rather, the first time their parents had ever propped her up in their bed and rested her newborn baby brother in her lap. He had grasped her finger in his hand and her hand hadn’t been much bigger but she still marveled at how little his was. He had been born only a few days previously. She remembered her parents sitting with her – her father’s arm around her mother’s shoulders, both of them smiling at their children. It was a memory to which she returned often, never wanting to lose it.

The two of them had always been close with Owain, and, of course, with Brady – Maribelle and Lon’qu were such fixtures of the castle that Lucina didn’t realize until she was older that they did not actually live there. The four of them played at battles while their parents were in meetings, chasing each other around the castle’s grounds; Lucina was the princess in their games, of course, and Morgan the tactician – an unwieldy word his child’s tongue always had to attempt a few times – with Owain as Ylisse’s best swordsman and Brady as their trusted healer. And before long their games grew, including more and more of the children around the castle. Sumia and Olivia, some of the closest friends of the royal family, of course brought their children whenever their work brought them to the castle. Cynthia took to Owain’s particular brand of games – shouting the names of made-up special moves, bestowing extravagant titles upon their wooden training weapons, dramatic scenes of death and vengeance – with unparalleled interest. Inigo was reluctant to join in the games for a while, but Owain and Cynthia eventually managed to drag him along. Sometimes he was the one in distress that the two of them had to save. Laurent, Frederick’s son, rarely tore himself away from his and his mother’s magical experiments long enough to play an entire game with the rest of them, but when he did, the other children were always excited to see the spells he could cast – not many, at his young age, and none of them combat-suited, of course, but they were impressed and delighted nonetheless. Yarne, son of Chrom’s close friend Vaike, was another frequent visitor to their games – and he delighted them all by transforming into his rabbit form and giving them rides around the courtyard.

Lucina still well remembered the day everything changed.

She had been about six years old. She, Morgan, Owain, Brady, and Cynthia were playing in the castle yard as always. They were fighting the ambiguous forces of evil that lurked within the hedge maze, slicing at it with their swords, with Morgan backing them up with a dictionary he was using as a magic tome. They had nearly finished it off – Cynthia was swooping in on her wooden horse, coming in for the killing blow – when Frederick had showed up and stopped their game. His expression had looked grim.

He told them all, in a serious voice, that Inigo’s mother had gone missing, and that he probably wouldn’t come around the castle much for a while.

Olivia had been one of the first parents to die. Inigo grew up with almost no knowledge of her whatsoever. His search for her in the past would be guided only by a small sketch of her face, given to him by Robin, and her wedding ring, which his father had entrusted to him the day before he was killed in battle.

Lucina did not meet most of her future army until she was a little older. The war against the Grimleal was in full swing by then, with all the children of her parents’ army sheltered in Ylisstol, one of the last safe havens in the country. For a while, they were all able to take this constant companionship at face value; none of them questioned why all their friends were gathered in one place like this – they were just happy to be able to play together all the time. They just couldn’t go outside into the castle yard like they did before.

Lucina and Morgan’s parents weren’t around as much by then. They were off fighting, but the two of them never worried much, as they always returned eventually. They wrote and visited as often as they could, and spent all the time they could with their children. Morgan’s admiration for Robin’s work became apparent at a young age, and Robin tutored him eagerly. Once he was old enough to read them, Lucina would often catch him staying up too late with one of Robin’s books on tactics. Lucina herself spent plenty of time with their mother, but never had much of a mind for tactics. Still, she would indulge the two of them in the occasional game of chess – which Morgan won handily every time, even without help from their mother. Her aptitude was more for the sword, and her father encouraged her in this pursuit, giving her her first training swords when she was small.

Lucina was about thirteen years old when she became aware of all that was happening in the war her parents waged – around the same time her father grew serious in training her to fight, and began sparring with her regularly.

An old, old injury to his leg slowed him down, but he was still a formidable training opponent. She still remembered well the stern expression he had worn as he had her repeat the moves he showed her until she had perfected them. Lon’qu, Brady’s father, also had a hand in her training; his own child was not combat-inclined, and so he trained Lucina and Owain side by side.

Lucina was sixteen when Chrom first had her wield Falchion.

She had entered the training grounds bright and early, just as usual. Her father was already there, standing with his arms crossed and his back to the entrance, his sword at his hip. She coughed to announce her presence, and he turned to her – his expression smoothing from a stern, thoughtful one into a smile. She smiled back.

“Lucina,” he said. “Here to train?”

“Ready if you are,” she replied.

He nodded once. A frown creased his brow again. His hand went to Falchion’s hilt.

“I had something… different in mind for today,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Yes. I… well…”

Chrom tried to find words for a moment, but gave up quickly. Instead, he simply drew Falchion from its sheath and held it out to her. She looked at it, and then up at him.

His face was stony.

“Lucina,” he said. “I want you to wield Falchion.”

She blinked at him. She had long coveted the sword when she was younger, but her father had never permitted her to use it. This sudden shift, and his tone, made her wary.

Chrom held the sword flat in both hands.

“This blade has been passed through our family since time immemorial,” he said. “It can only be wielded by those in our bloodline, and even within them, only by a select few.”

Lucina hesitantly reached out and took the sword from him. She weighed it in her hands. It was surprisingly light – not disproportionally so, but light all the same. She gave it a few experimental swings, finding the balance excellent.

“To someone unable to wield it, Falchion’s edge will be dull, and will not injure its target,” Chrom continued. “I want to see if you are able to use it.”

Lucina nodded and took her place in front of one of the training dummies. She held Falchion out in front of her, ready. But she didn’t strike.

“Lucina?” Chrom prompted.

“…Why are you having me do this now?” she asked. “You could have had me try with Falchion anytime. I’ve been strong enough that I could have used it for a long time.”

“I…” Chrom paused. Lucina kept her eyes fixed on the blade.

“…I want to know you’ll be able to use it,” Chrom finished. “In case something ever happens to me.”

The tip of the blade wavered as Lucina’s hands shook.

“These are dangerous times, Lucina. And I want you to be able to protect yourself – and I want to protect you as well, for as long as I possibly can. My passing Falchion to you is my way of doing that.”

She looked at him sharply. “You’re… passing it to me?” she demanded. “You aren’t just having me try it?”

“If you are able to wield it.” Chrom nodded.

Lucina’s heart felt cold. She shook her head, trying her best to clear it. She turned her focus onto the training dummy before her.

Tears stung her eyes as she raised Falchion high and swung it down with all her might.

The dummy split cleanly down the middle. Falchion passed all the way through it, and the two halves fell apart, landing with a _thud_ on either side of the dummy’s post.

Lucina’s throat felt tight. She looked over at her father and found him frowning again. He walked – limped, gods, he was _limping_ – over to her, placed his hands on her shoulders, and looked her in the eye.

“I’m proud of you, Lucina,” he said. “I couldn’t be prouder.”

Lucina’s mouth wobbled. Her father pulled her into a hug just as she burst into tears. He held her, and let her cry, stroking her hair, waiting until she had tired herself out. When he held her at arm’s length again, he smiled at her, but she could see his eyes were red too.

“I’m counting on you,” he said. “I’m going to protect you and your brother as long as I can. I pray you never have to take up my mantle, but… Should you have to, I know you will rise to the occasion.”

“I can’t do what you do,” she wavered. “I’m not strong enough for it.”

“I was only a little older than you are now when I took the Ylissean throne,” Chrom said. “I thought myself unfit as well. Believe me, you’re more ready than you think, I promise. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

He pulled her in for another hug. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you with all this.”

“I understand,” Lucina mumbled.

“I know I can trust you to protect your brother and your friends, and that they’ll do the same for you. And you’ve got me, and your mother, and Frederick, and everyone – you’ll be fine. The fight will never come to you if I have anything to do with it.”

Lucina nodded. She pulled away from him and dried her eyes on her sleeve.

Chrom took Falchion’s sheath from his hip and handed it to Lucina. She put the blade inside and attached it to her own belt. She looked down at it for a moment, feeling uneasy.

“We’ll train tomorrow,” Chrom said. “This is enough for today.”

Lucina nodded and followed him out.

They enjoyed a few more weeks of relative peace. The war raged on, closer to their gates than ever before. More and more of their soldiers were lost – including the parents of Lucina’s friends. The sounds of battle were often close enough to the castle that the children could hear them, even hidden away within Ylisstol. They spent many sleepless nights wondering if they would ever see their parents again – and, as time went by, fewer and fewer of them would. In one year – Lucina’s seventeenth – every child lost at least one parent, except for Lucina herself, Morgan, and Owain.

Owain lost his father not long after Lucina’s eighteenth birthday. He had snuck out of the castle, intent on joining in the fighting. He had barely made it to his father’s camp when bandits attacked. Donnel had protected Owain, helping him safely flee the camp, but in the process had lost his own life. Owain was not himself after that. Lucina would often find him staring listlessly into space, or crying where he thought she couldn’t hear. She did her best to comfort him, but she found that he mostly wanted to be left alone. Lon’qu was also lost that year, shortly before Maribelle. Lissa outlived her husband and her best friend by mere weeks.

When Lucina was nineteen, Frederick woke her in the dead of night and told her to come with him. Lucina dressed, belted Falchion to her side, and followed him, leading Morgan by the arm. He was yawning, sleepily asking what was going on. Lucina could hear terrible sounds – crashing, screaming, roaring – coming from somewhere within the castle.

She knew what was happening long before Frederick stopped to explain.

“The castle is under attack,” he said. “You… all of you, you children – you need to escape. You, at least, need to escape.”

“…Uncle Frederick?” Morgan sounded far more awake. “Where… where’s our parents?”

Frederick bowed his head. He knelt in front of the two of them and rested a hand on each of their shoulders. He looked from one to the other of them, his expression grim.

“Your father…” he stopped. He closed his eyes. He tried again.

“Your father… is wounded,” he said. “I took him to safety, but he is badly injured. He was attacked… by one of our own. By someone he trusted above all others.”

Lucina gasped.

“Who would do such a thing?” she demanded, tears springing to her eyes. “Will he be all right?”

“I don’t know, Lucina, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Frederick shook his head.

“And… and our mother?” Morgan squeaked.

Frederick hesitated even longer this time. His face grew stony. The cacophony of the battle below grew louder.

“…I have not seen Robin,” Frederick said carefully. “I do not know where they are.”

Morgan’s eyes grew wide. “Then,” he said. “We have to find them! Right?”

“Not you. You and the others must leave here as quickly as possible. There is something… something you must do.”

“What is it?” Lucina asked.

Frederick stood up and looked at her. The gaze he set upon her now reminded her of the one she’d seen him give her father so many times before – one of stern respect. Her hands grew cold. Falchion felt heavy on her hip.

“There is one final thing we can do for you,” Frederick said. “It may not save us, your parents – but it may yet save our children. And so we must try, for your sakes – for the sakes of the parents who fell in battle to keep you safe.

“There is a temple to Naga about a week’s journey from here. This path is sure to be teeming with enemies, so set out with that knowledge in mind. Naga herself is hidden in this temple – and she sent a message to your father recently, telling him to send all of you to her should our situation grow dire.”

“What do we do there?” Lucina asked.

“Naga… has said there is a way for the group of you to go back to before all this happened. To send you back twenty-two years, before the battle against Grima had even begun.”

Lucina’s breath caught in her chest. “W-what?” she demanded. “Back… in time?”

Frederick nodded. “She said there is a chance you could change the path of destiny with this action. And as of tonight, our need is most certainly great.”

He fixed her with a grave look. “You are our last hope for salvation from a world ruled by this fell beast, Lucina,” he said. “I will not dance around that fact.”

“I understand.”

“If you fail, the world falls.”

“I understand.”

He nodded one last time.

“I believe in you,” he said. “I believe in all of you. I am trusting you with the fate of this world with confidence.”

With that, Frederick looked down the hall, at the rooms occupied by the others.

“I must return to the battlefield,” he said. “Rouse your friends and arm yourselves. You will have to fight your way out of here. Take care of each other.”

He straightened up and turned away from them.

“Tell Laurent…” he paused. “Tell him… I know he is strong enough for this.”

Lucina watched Frederick until he was out of sight. Then she looked back to Morgan – and found him crying, hands pressed to his face.

She wanted to hug him. She wanted to tell him everything was going to be okay. But she couldn’t right now. She would – but not yet. She had to focus on helping everyone escape.

She had to lead them now.

“Come on,” she wavered, leading Morgan down the corridor. “Help me wake everyone.”

Morgan nodded mutely. The two of them rushed down the hall, bursting through doors and explaining to half-asleep ears what was happening. Within a few minutes, all thirteen of them stood nervously in the corridor, armed as best they could be. Several of them were crying. Lucina took her place at the front of them and raised Falchion over her head.

“My friends,” she said. Her voice broke, but she pushed on. “Our home is under attack. We have been tasked with escaping and journeying to the temple of Naga to make one last effort. We go with the blessings of our parents on us. I believe in all of you.”

Owain pushed to the front of the group, Brady close behind him. They were both pale, but their faces were brave. Morgan fell against Owain and Owain did his best to hold him up. Morgan was sobbing uncontrollably. Lucina tried not to look at him – she was afraid she would start crying too if she did.

“We have a fight ahead of us,” she said. “We have many fights ahead of us. But we will prevail. We must.”

With that, she turned and lead the way downstairs, into the great hall. Her friends, her army, followed her without hesitation.

It was a scene of terrible destruction. Hundreds of bodies, dead and dying – Ylissean, Risen, Grimleal, gods knew which – littered the stone floor. And still more soldiers stood, fighting back, taking one last stand to protect a dying exalt.

Lucina shook herself. No. Her father was not dying. Her father was injured, but he was no longer on the battlefield. He was not dying. He was _not_. She would see him again, and he would be just as she had always known him.

But what Frederick had said weighed heavy in the back of her mind. Wounded by someone he trusted above all others… but that… it could only mean… but it couldn’t, it _couldn’t…_

A group of Risen spotted her army and began a shrieking charge. Lucina took to the front line and cut them down, backed up by Morgan and Laurent. Owain fought right by her side, matching each of her blows with two of his own, his signature twin blades flashing. Morgan stayed behind her, finishing off whichever Risen were strong enough to withstand her attacks.

None of them had ever been in a real fight before. Nothing could have prepared them for it.

They did not stand and fight. Whenever an opening presented itself, Lucina cried out for everyone to charge forward, and they did until another group stopped them.

They were almost out of the great hall when Lucina noticed Morgan had left her side.

She stopped fighting abruptly and turned around, searching the crowds frantically – nothing had hit him, nothing could have hurt him, she had made sure to let nothing past her –

– and she found him. His back was to her, his hands were at his sides. On his left, the Brand of the Exalt. On his right, the Mark of Grima. The battle stormed around him, but he seemed not to notice it.

“MORGAN!” she screamed. “COME ON!”

He heard her, somehow, and turned around. He was pale – so pale – and his eyes were wide, and full of tears. He raised one trembling hand and pointed further back into the room.

“Lucina,” he wavered. “It’s Mother.”

Lucina looked where he was pointing. Her heart stopped.

Standing just in front of the throne, head bowed, cloaked in purple mist, white hair hiding their face – their mother, but deeply, deeply not.

Lucina looked back to Morgan, shaking her head. One of her friends shouted her name and she turned back around just in time to parry a blow from another Risen. She looked back to Morgan as quickly as she could. He was looking at their mother again. Lucina could see him shaking even from this distance.

“Morgan!” Lucina was crying now. It was all she could do to get the words out. “Morgan, I… I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t know what’s happened, but we have to go. We have to leave –”

“I’m sorry.” Morgan called back to her without turning around. “I’m sorry, Lucy, I’m sorry, I have to help them – I’m sorry –”

And he had started to run back into the fold.

Lucina screamed louder than she ever had in her life. She started to chase after him, but Kjelle grabbed her arm, pulling her behind her shield, narrowly avoiding a crushing blow from one of the Grimleal’s weapons.

“There’s too many of them!” Kjelle shouted at her. “You can’t go in there yourself – you’ll be killed!”

“Morgan – _Morgan_ –”

“I’d go in there and drag him back too if I could.” Kjelle’s voice cracked ever so slightly. She lunged forward, striking a Risen between the eyes with her lance. It let out a terrible gurgling noise and slid to the floor.

“We need you, Lucina,” she went on. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

They had fought their way to the open doors. Lucina pulled against the arms holding her back, screaming for her brother long after he had left her sight.

Owain and Brady were practically carrying Lucina as they all exited the great hall and closed the heavy doors behind them. There were still soldiers remaining outside the castle, Ylissean and Grimleal alike. Both forces had been significantly thinned; even though their ranks had been broken, Ylisse’s soldiers were continuing to hold the line. Lucina’s group was able to move around the fighting, scarcely getting involved – a fortunate thing, as Owain and Brady were both fully occupied with keeping Lucina present.

Morgan. Morgan was still inside. He was still inside the castle, where the fighting was worst. He had run away from her. He had run away from her and back towards danger. Even if he reached their mother – even if he managed to avoid capture or death on his way to them – what fate would befall him then? Their mother – what had happened to them?

What had they done to their father?

A deafening roar sounded above them. Lucina looked up and saw the mountainous form of the fell dragon itself looming over the castle. It bowed its head as she watched – its terrible glowing eyes peering down at her. Directly at her.

Lucina’s breath caught in her chest. Owain was shouting at her, shaking her, trying to pull her along as he and the others broke into a run.

She stood there, her father’s sword at her side, and watched as it bent its head towards her, staring somehow only at her.

_Your mother and father are dead, tiny one._

The voice reverberated in her head. She stared back at the massive beast, mouth dropping open in disbelief – feeling suddenly empty, frozen, dead.

It had to be wrong. It couldn’t be right. Her parents were alive. Her parents would live. Her brother, her mother, her father, _everyone –_

Lucina raised Falchion and bellowed wordlessly as Grima’s laugh echoed through her very soul. She screamed through the tears, screamed as though she could end all of this with her voice alone. It was only her, her tiny futile self with this insignificant secondhand blade, against this malevolent, inexorable, titanic force.

And Owain’s hand was on her shoulder again, and this time he and Brady _did_ pick her up – lifted her off the ground and ran with her for a few steps until she came to her senses again. She ran alongside them, each of them holding one of her hands, a silent refusal to let her fall behind again.

\- - -

They buried Morgan almost within sight of Naga’s temple the morning before they left their time. When Lucina rose from the floor of the tent – she had not been able to sleep at all – she found Owain already awake and waiting for her outside.

He was staring blankly at the ground before him, looking lost. He held a shovel in his hand. Lucina’s heart sank.

She walked over to him silently and placed a hand on his shoulder. He started slightly in response to her touch, but relaxed quickly. He nodded at her and gave her a shaky smile.

“Lucina,” he said. “Good morning.”

She could only nod in return.

Owain coughed and straightened up. He gestured at the shovel.

“I was… going to dig him a grave,” he said. “Before you got up, if I could. I didn’t want you to have to…”

Lucina took the shovel from his hand. He didn’t resist.

“Let me help,” she said. “You don’t have to do everything yourself.”

“Neither do you.”

“I know.”

Owain rubbed the back of his neck, eyes closed. Lucina watched him.

“Did you sleep at all?” he asked her.

“…No,” she admitted.

“Neither did I,” he said. “Brady or Cynthia either.”

“I doubt any of us did,” Lucina said. “Has… anybody checked on Nah? I’m worried about her.”

“I haven’t yet. I could… I could hear her crying all night, though. I think Yarne’s with her.”

“That’s good, at least.”

“Yeah. He’ll take good care of her.”

Lucina turned and looked at the tent beside hers – the one in which they had laid Morgan the previous night. Safely away from the altar, as safe as they could be from the Grimleal, they had put up their camp and covered Morgan’s body with a sheet. Lucina had spent that night close to him – part of her thinking he might somehow wake – that perhaps she would wake in the middle of the night and hear him having a nightmare, as he had from time to time when they were children. She wanted to be at his side immediately, should that happen.

But it hadn’t happened last night. It would never happen again.

Her brother was dead.

Wind blew over the dusty, parched ground. Owain rubbed his nose and sniffled.

“Lucina,” he said. “Do you… really think we can do this?”

She looked sideways at her cousin and found him blinking back tears. She was struck suddenly by how young he was – two years her junior, a little under a year older than Morgan. Little more than a child.

Lucina’s throat closed up. She focused straight ahead, furrowed her brow, and gripped the shovel tightly.

“Of course,” she said. “We have to. We’re the only ones who can.”

With that, she led the way out of camp and began to dig the grave. Before long, Owain joined her. The two of them chipped away at the hard-packed ground for hours before it was deep enough. The rest of their group eventually gathered around them, but the two of them insisted they had it handled. The rest went about some semblance of preparing food and packing up what they wouldn’t use before they left.

Nah remained beside the grave as they dug it, sitting on her knees, head bowed, eyes unfocused. She absently wound her braids around her hands and let them unfurl, over and over. Lucina tried to catch her eye from time to time, and to give her a smile, but if Nah noticed, she didn’t acknowledge it. The poor girl. She was the youngest of their group by far, and she and Morgan had been friends. Even if she hadn’t already known Nah had been awake crying all night, she would have been able to guess by looking at her.

After a little while – once the grave was about four feet deep – Yarne came over and sat down at the little manakete’s side. He put his arm around her and sat in near silence.

Lucina managed to catch his eye and give him an attempt at a smile, which he returned shakily. He squeezed Nah a little and then spoke.

“Kjelle and I kept watch last night,” he said. “Nobody even got close.”

“I’m glad,” Lucina said. “I expect our enemy’s forces were stretched thin after all that’s happened.” After the assault on Ylisstol, their group had encountered smaller groups on the way to the temple, but less and less frequently as they drew closer. Even in this dark time, Naga’s influence still had some strength to deter the Grimleal and their underlings.

Yarne nodded, fiddling with his long ears. “We’ll reach the temple soon, right?” he asked quietly.

“Tonight.” Lucina struck her shovel into the ground and threw her weight behind it, dislodging a sizable chunk of earth. “We break camp as soon as everyone’s had some food, and… once we’re done here.”

All of them were quiet again. The only sounds were the wind and the steady grinding of steel through soil.

“Lucina,” Yarne said after a while. “I’m sorry… all this happened.”

Lucina shook her head. “You don’t have anything to apologize for,” she said. “Everything that’s happened has been out of our control. You have no guilt.”

“I still feel like I should have done something,” he said. “He was right next to me in the castle siege. I could have… I should have…”

Nah covered her face, tiny shoulders quaking again. Yarne stopped talking, bending his head towards her, concerned, guilty. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Nah shook her head and pressed herself closer to his side. He rubbed her arms, as if to keep her warm.

“You are blameless, Yarne,” Lucina said, forcing herself to focus on her work. “If anyone holds blame for what happened to my brother, it is I.”

“Lucina –”

“My parents entrusted me with his protection,” she retorted. “One of the last things my father ever said to me was to look after him. I broke that promise.”

At this, Owain stopped digging. Lucina’s eyes stung.

“Cousin,” he said. “You did everything you could to keep him safe, and to bring him back to us. I know you. You were not negligent. There were simply things that happened outside of your control. Your brother did not fall because of anything you did.”

Lucina wiped her eyes on her sleeve. She took a deep breath, held it, and nodded.

“I will try to find peace with that,” she said quietly. And then, still quieter, “Thank you, Owain.”

“Of course,” he murmured back. “Yarne… take Nah back to camp and make sure she eats something, will you?”

“I will,” Yarne said.

Lucina heard the two of them stand up, heard Yarne coaxing Nah into movement, but did not look up to watch them leave. She and Owain wordlessly returned to digging. By the time the grave was deep enough, Lucina’s arms ached and her palms were raw. She climbed out and reached down to help Owain as well.

Brady was walking out of camp towards them, closely followed by Cynthia and Noire. Cynthia had her arm around Noire, who had clearly just stopped crying. Brady looked up at Lucina and Owain, pressed his lips together, and nodded at them.

“It’s ready?” he asked.

“Yes,” Lucina replied. “Noire, how are you doing?”

Noire merely shook her head. Cynthia squeezed her and answered for her.

“She’s been up all night,” she said. “I got her to eat something, but she hasn’t said much at all since… last night. I’m keeping an eye on her.”

“Thank you,” Lucina said. “We’ll all need to support each other from here on out. We’re all a family now. We always have been, but… Now, more than ever, we need to be able to depend on our comrades.”

“Well said.” Owain nodded. “Cynthia, do you know if everyone’s at least had something to eat?”

“Most of us, I think. Except you two, as far as I know. Though…” she hesitated. “I don’t think I’ve seen Laurent. Can you check on him on your way to eat?”

Lucina had forgotten she needed food. She nodded at Cynthia and smiled as best she could. Cynthia and Noire lingered near the grave as Lucina, Owain, and Brady walked back towards the camp.

“Came out to stop you if you hadn’t already,” Brady said gruffly. “You’ve been working way too long. You needed a break.”

“I appreciate it, Brady,” Lucina said. “Thank you for looking out for us.”

“Course.”

“You always have our backs.” Owain slapped Brady’s shoulder. “A most vital ally.”

“Least I could do,” Brady murmured.

They walked the rest of the way back in silence. Nobody in the camp was alone. Inigo and Severa were seated together – and both of them were eating, to Lucina’s relief. Severa nudged him every so often to make sure he kept at it. Nah and Yarne were nearby, with Kjelle and Gerome a little off to the side. Only Laurent was absent.

“Which is Laurent’s tent?” Lucina asked. “I… have a message that his father asked me to give him.”

“I think he was staying with Kjelle and Gerome.” Brady nodded at a tent just to their right. “I’ll scare up some food for ya while you’re checking in.”

Lucina nodded in thanks and walked to the entrance of Laurent’s tent alone. She stood just outside it, head bowed, hands clasped behind her back. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Laurent?” she called out. “Are you in here?”

A moment of silence – and then, quietly, “Yes, I am.”

“May I come in?”

“If you wish.”

She pushed the tent flap open and stepped inside. Laurent was seated on the floor, a tome in hand. He was flipping through the pages without reading them. Lucina knelt beside him and waited a few seconds.

“Have you eaten at all today?” she asked him.

“No,” he replied after a moment. His voice was small. He was even younger than Morgan – merely fifteen years old, one of the youngest of their group. He had lost his mother only months ago, and likely had not seen his father at all in their rushed escape from Ylisstol. On top of that, to lose an ally, right before his eyes, just like that –

Lucina’s eyes stung.

“I’m having Brady make some breakfast for us,” she said. “We set out as soon as everyone’s eaten.”

Laurent nodded wordlessly, still paging through his tome. It looked well-worn, marked up with years’ worth of ink. Lucina realized it must be one of his mother’s.

She took another deep breath before continuing.

“I… saw your father,” she said. “The night we left Ylisstol.”

He stopped turning pages.

“He had a message for you,” she said. “I didn’t have a chance to give it to you until now. I’m sorry.”

“What was the message?”

Lucina closed her eyes.

“He said… he knows you are strong enough for this,” she said. “He trusts in your strength. He believes in you.”

Laurent closed his tome. He bowed his head and his his face in his hands. Lucina put a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“He thinks I’m strong?” Laurent wavered. “He… trusts me in this?”

“He does.”

Laurent was silent a moment longer. He did not cry – he breathed slowly and carefully, and Lucina waited for whatever would come next.

“…All right,” he finally whispered. “I’ll have to prove him right.”

Lucina smiled. “I know you can,” she said. “I believe in you too.”

Laurent sniffed and straightened up. Lucina got to her feet and moved to the front of the tent.

“Come out and get food soon,” she said. “We’ll wait for you.”

She exited the tent, leaving Laurent alone.

\- - -

They had all eaten something and broken down their tents to prepare for the long walk ahead. Now there only remained one thing to do.

Lucina stood before Morgan’s body, draped in a spare tent canvas. They had built him a litter last night, on which he still lay. Owain and Brady stood waiting outside the tent; she had asked for one last moment alone with her brother, and they had complied.

She knelt beside him and slowly folded back one side of the cloth. Morgan’s face was gray, still, cold. His hair – just like their father’s – stood out starkly against his bloodless forehead. Their mother’s coat lay folded beside his head.

Lucina’s throat grew tight, but she was out of tears.

She bowed her head to rest against his. She closed her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Morgan,” she wavered. “I’m so sorry I let this happen to you.

“When we go back… when we go back in time, I will meet you again. Not for a few years, but… I will see you again. It won’t be… _you_ , you, but… it will be you before everything went wrong. And next time I see you… I refuse to fail you. I will not let this happen a second time. I will save you, our father, our… our mother. I will save everyone we lost in this time.

“I’m so sorry, Morgan.

“I love you.”

She kissed his forehead and sat back up, feeling drained. She covered his face again and got to her feet. She took a deep breath and turned back to the entrance of the tent. She held her head as high as she could as she exited it. Brady and Owain stood on either side of the entrance like sentinels. They turned to her as she walked between them – Owain looking at her searchingly, Brady scrubbing tears from his eyes with his sleeve.

She sighed.

“I’m… ready,” she said. “As I’ll ever be.”

Owain nodded. “Brady,” he said. “Help me carry him?”

“I’ll do it,” Lucina said. “Brady – you can rest. You’ve done enough.”

“I want to help,” he said. “D-don’t worry about me.”

“Your leg – ”

“My leg is _fine,_ ” Brady snapped. “Let me… lemme just do one last thing for him, okay? I couldn’t even do the one thing I’m good for. Lemme carry him out.”

“You sure?” Owain asked him. Brady nodded.

Lucina and Brady reentered the tent and each picked up one end of the litter. They raised it off the ground together and began the long walk to the grave.

The rest of their group was waiting beside it. They bowed their heads as they drew closer. Some clasped their hands in prayer. Others were too overwhelmed to do anything but cry.

They reached the grave. Owain jumped down into it and put his hands up to receive Morgan. Kjelle slid down too, to help lower him. Lucina and Brady passed him off carefully, and their friends’ capable hands did not let him fall. They rested him gently in the bottom of the grave, wrapped him up in his canvas burial shroud, and then climbed out.

Lucina looked down into the grave. She knew she had to say something. She knew they were all waiting. She could feel all eyes on her.

She opened her mouth to speak but Owain beat her to it.

“Comrades,” he said, his voice stronger than she expected. “We lay to rest today… an important ally and friend. Morgan is… is my cousin, and a constant companion throughout my life. Losing him… is too great a loss. We…”

His voice began to break. He paused for a moment, eyes closed, one hand over his mouth. Lucina started to reach out to touch his shoulder, but he suddenly continued, louder than before.

“We fight!” he declared, almost shouting, voice rising. “We fight for him, for everyone we lost to this damned war! For EVERYTHING! FOR EVERYTHING THAT WENT WRONG IN THIS WORLD, WE NOW FIGHT! FOR OUR PARENTS! FOR OUR FAMILIES! WE FIGHT FOR MORGAN!”

Owain’s knees gave out. Lucina caught him and stood him up as best she could, but she was shaky herself. He was sobbing openly now, making no attempt to hide it. Lucina wrapped her cousin in a hug, wanting to console him, having no idea how.

She raised her head and looked over Owain’s shuddering shoulders at the rest of her army. Most of them were crying by now as well.

“My brother is the last casualty of this war,” she said. “Today we go back and fix everything before it can ever get this far. Today we begin to rewrite this tragic history.”

Kjelle stepped forward and nodded to Lucina. “All of us,” she said. “We will all work together and thwart this end. We will not let this happen again.”

Owain pulled away from Lucina. She let him stand, keeping one hand on his shoulder to steady him. He forced his tears back and raised his head defiantly.

“Rest well, Morgan,” he said. “We fight now for you.”

Lucina strode over to the pile of dirt beside the grave and took up the shovel again – only to have it taken from her hands by Severa. She didn’t look Lucina in the eye, but Lucina could see her face was red from crying.

“You don’t have to do this part alone,” she muttered. “Everyone’s gonna help. Right?”

Everyone in the group nodded. And like that – together – they began to cover Morgan with earth. Lucina kept her eyes turned up, away from the grave’s interior, until it was nearly full. She pushed the last of the earth over her brother and let the shovel fall to the ground.

A prince of Ylisse, buried in this indistinct grave, in the middle of nowhere. He should have been laid to rest in their family’s tomb, years and years from now – after a long, full life.

The best they could do for a marker was a stake, driven into the ground at the head of the grave, upon which they draped the coat he had been wearing. Lucina stood before the grave longest – and the rest of the army left her to it for a while. The sun was almost directly overhead when Owain finally came to fetch her, saying the rest were ready to leave.

Lucina nodded, and after one long last look at her brother’s cloak, moving gently in the wind, followed her cousin back to their friends.

\- - -

Lucina raised one hand to block the sun from her eyes. The bright stones of the Ruins of Time scattered the light into an array of rainbows. She held her hands out in front of her hand spread out her fingers, admiring the way the light landed on them.

She had been a resident of this past for over two years. Twenty-one years old in her own timeline, two months old in this one. She had seen herself as a baby not long ago. It had been jarring – seeing both her parents standing on the balcony of Ylisstol again, holding their firstborn child. Holding her. That moment had fully impressed upon her the importance of her duty here; to secure a better future for her family, and for herself. The Lucina of this time would know none of the pain she did. She would make sure of it. By that point, she had already diverted the assassin who would have caused her father the injury that had haunted him in her time. She had not been able to divert the death of Emmeryn – only delay it, much to her regret. But nonetheless, she had changed _something_ of this past. She had been able to change _something._

Her arrival in this time saved her aunt Lissa from what would have been a nearly fatal wound from a Risen’s axe. Shortly afterwards, she had defeated Brady’s father, Lon’qu, in a fight to decide the champion of the Regna Ferox West Khan. She had defeated him handily, knowing every trick he had up his sleeve, plus more he hadn’t even discovered yet. She had had to fight back a giddy smile; it had felt just like the time she had spent training with him, but this time she had the upper hand.

She had joined her parents’ group recently, and had helped them to gather the rest of her scattered group. It had taken months, but at last they had found everyone. The last of them had been Laurent – who was startlingly taller than he had been the last time she had seen him. He had looked… older. Upon talking to him, she discovered he had been sent back five years further than anyone else in their group. He had persisted, alone in a foreign world, for nearly seven years. He was older than Lucina now. Far from the tiny child over whom she’d felt so protective in their past, Laurent was a self-sufficient adult now. Thinking about all that time he’d spent alone, friendless and afraid, made Lucina uneasy – but Laurent had only smiled wryly at her and said he had proved his father right.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Lucina pulled herself back to the present and looked around to find her father walking towards her, smiling. She smiled back at him.

“I am,” she replied. “My time… didn’t have lights like this. It was always dark, and storming, towards the end. I barely remember rainbows.”

Chrom’s brow furrowed, the way it always did when she talked about the future from which she’d come. The way she’d remembered it furrowing the last time she’d ever seen him.

She shook the unpleasant thoughts away, smiled, and stood up from her perch on a fallen column.

“So,” she sighed. “A Tear of Naga resides in these ruins?”

“So the legends say,” Chrom nodded. He turned to survey the crumbled crystalline pillars around them, one hand resting on the pommel of his Falchion. “If we can find it, it should lend our army some needed strength.”

Lucina closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Even the air was sweeter in this time. Even after two years here, this never ceased to amaze her.

“Right,” she said. “Then… onward?”

“Indeed. I’ll go fetch Robin and the others. Gather your friends as well. We march in five minutes.”

Lucina nodded and turned back towards camp. She looked over her shoulder at her father as he walked away. She couldn’t help but smile as she did so.

In this time, her father was barely older than she was. He lacked the worry lines, the battle scars, of the father she knew. She knew, of course, logically, that her father had once been this age, had once been young – but it was still strange to see. Her father looked like little more than a boy. She knew he had been ruling Ylisse for nearly two years when she was born, when both her parents were twenty-two, but looking at him now, it was hard to fathom that this was the same man.

She was suddenly struck by how similar he looked to Morgan.

She closed her eyes and turned back to camp.

She hadn’t yet told her parents that they’d had another child. Lucina couldn’t bring herself to talk about Morgan with anyone – even Owain, even Brady. Everyone was suffering for what she’d done. They’d all suffered enough, all this time. Lucina could keep her own pain to herself, for their sakes.

Owain was the first one she encountered on her way into camp. He smiled at her and saluted, a smile on his face. She smiled back. She hadn’t seen him so happy since long before they’d left. Meeting all their parents again – regaining even a sliver of the happy pasts they’d once had – had done them all some good.

“Hoy there, cousin,” Owain called out. “Are we due to march?”

“Five minutes,” she nodded. “Will you help me let everyone know?”

“Of course, my liege.” Owain swept a deep bow and then turned on his heel, rushing back towards the camp.

Lucina watched him go for a little while and then followed slowly.

Owain was older than both of his parents in this time, a fact that had not surprised him on a factual level, but which was hard for him to face head-on. He knew that his parents had been young when he was born – that Lissa had only been nineteen when he was born, and Donnel eighteen – but meeting them when they were both fifteen years old while Owain himself was almost twenty…

“I feel like _I_ have to protect _them_ now,” Owain had said shakily, after he had joined them. “I know… they were more than capable, to make it all the way through those battles on their own, but… gods, they’re so small. Neither of them are done growing yet. My father is _shorter_ than me.”

Lucina’s walk through camp next brought her to Cynthia, seated outside her tent. She looked up at Lucina as she approached and beamed at her.

“Hi, Lucy!” she chirped. “I was just fixing up my lance. I put a pretty good ding in the tip of it while I was training yesterday…”

“We’re heading out in a few minutes,” Lucina said. “Make sure you’re ready.”

Cynthia sat up straight and saluted her, just like Owain, her face screwed up with a show of determination. Lucina felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. Finding her parents again had brought back a lot of the life she’d missed from Cynthia. Sumia and Gaius had both been killed when Cynthia was young; she’d had only tales from their fellow soldiers to tide her over after they were gone.

“Ma’am yes ma’am,” Cynthia said. “Do you need help with anything while we wait?”

“No, thank you,” Lucina said. “I sent Owain ahead to tell everyone.”

“Well, no, I mean…” Cynthia set the lance down on the ground and stood up, fixing Lucina with a serious expression. Lucina could barely hold her gaze.

“I mean… are you okay, Lucy?” Cynthia asked, her voice low.

Lucina blinked and looked away.

“I’m fine,” she replied shortly.

Cynthia sighed. Lucina kept her eyes glued to the ground, as though she were suddenly very interested in the pebbles at her feet. Lucina waited for Cynthia to probe further, but she didn’t. Instead, she clicked her heels together and spoke again.

“Will you at least let me hug you, Lucy?” she asked.

Lucina hesitated. She didn’t look up.

“If you wish,” she finally said.

Cynthia threw her arms around Lucina’s shoulders and held on tight. Lucina hugged her back, resting her chin on her old friend’s shoulder.

“I love you a lot, Lucy,” Cynthia whispered to her. “I’m here for you if you decide you need to talk. Okay? You don’t have to always brave-face it with me, okay?”

Lucina nodded wordlessly. Cynthia squeezed her a little tighter and then let go, stepping back quickly.

“Right,” she said brightly. “Let’s continue rallying the troops.”

“Yes,” Lucina agreed, smiling. “Let’s.”

\- - -

Lucina walked between her parents as they led the way through the ruins. She was a little taller than her mother – had been since the year she turned twelve. Her mother was not particularly short; Lucina was tall, like her father. Robin commented on this as they walked, standing on tiptoe to match her height.

“You took off after your father much more than me, huh?” Robin mused. “See, Chrom? I’ve been telling you.”

“Say what you will,” Chrom said. “I still see you in those eyes.”

“Those are your eyes, Chrom. Mine are brown. Both of you have blue eyes. They’re even the exact same shape.”

“She looks just like you when she’s smiling,” Chrom retorted. “See?”  
Lucina couldn’t help but smile. Robin peered up at her, squinting. Lucina laughed.

“…I’ll grant you we look somewhat similar when she smiles,” Lucina said. “But I don’t see anything but you in her face.”

Lucina caught Chrom’s eye. He made a face at her and she giggled.

“So that still works on you,” he said, smiling. “You should see the way you laugh at that when you’re a baby.”

Lucina felt giddy. She hid her mouth behind one hand so they couldn’t see how hard she was grinning. Robin sighed and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“At least I didn’t curse the next generation with my pitiable height,” they said. “It’s good that you take after your father.”

“I was always jealous of your hair,” Lucina said. She leaned on her mother’s side a little. Robin laughed and playfully pushed her in return. She bumped into Chrom, who put an arm around her shoulders as well. Lucina buried her face in her hands, heart light as a feather.

They were nearing the heart of the prismatic ruins now, the army splitting off into smaller parties and spreading out to search for the ancient artifact. Lucina stayed close to Robin and Chrom, glad to be able to spend time with them.

They hadn’t been looking long when someone shouted at them, from a ways away.

“Mother!” the voice called. “Mother!”

Lucina looked sharply in the direction of this voice. Her heart skipped and her breathing stopped.

It sounded so familiar. But it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be.

Robin straightened up, shielding their eyes from the sun, peering down over an edge. Chrom joined them. He squinted.

“Who is that?” he murmured.

Lucina moved to stand beside them, not letting herself believe her ears, not allowing herself to recognize that voice. When she looked down, and saw the little figure below them, waving arms clad in too-big, dark purple sleeves, she felt her knees shake, nearly giving out beneath her.

“That’s… is that my coat?” Robin muttered.

Lucina looked down at her little brother – somehow, miraculously – and opened her mouth to speak.

“Is… this one of the children?” Chrom asked. “Lucina? Do you know him? Whose child is that?”

“Yours,” she barely whispered. “He’s… yours.”

“What –?”

Lucina was already rushing away, taking the fastest possible route down the side of the ruined building, nearly falling several times in her haste to reach him, in her rush to see if it was really him, if it could _possibly_ really be him…

Morgan blinked at her in amused surprise as she slid to a breathless stop before him.

“Morgan,” she gasped. “You’re… how are you…”

He frowned. He looked so much like their father.

“How do you know my name?” he asked.

Lucina stared at him, frozen.

“What’s going on?” Chrom called from behind her. She turned back to find Chrom helping Robin make their way down the steep slope.

Morgan beamed as Robin turned to face him. “Mother!” he said. “There you are.”

Morgan walked past Lucina and stood before their mother. His smile faltered slightly, replaced by a look of confusion.

“You look… Younger,” Morgan said, haltingly. “You… what’s going on? I just saw you a few minutes ago – we got separated –”

“Do I look old enough to have a child your age?” Robin asked. “You must have come back with Lucina and the others, right?”

“Lucina – and who?” Morgan sounded baffled. “No, I… I came here with just you, Mom.”

Chrom looked at Lucina, questioning. Lucina realized her mouth was hanging open and closed it quickly. Her hands were shaking. She balled them into fists.

“So… I’m your mother, yes?” Robin said. “Then Chrom’s your father, of course – gods, that hair…”

“Oh, I…” Morgan frowned. “I don’t… now that I think about it, I… don’t remember who my father is.”

“Chrom,” Lucina called out. Her voice was brittle. Morgan looked over at his shoulder at her, eyebrows furrowed. “Your father is Chrom.”

“I, uh,” Chrom coughed. “Pleased to meet you, son.”

“OH, _you’re_ Chrom,” Morgan laughed. “Sorry about that. Duh – you’re right, our hair is the exact same. But I… still, I can’t remember you at all, Father. I… what happened to me?”

“I don’t know,” Robin said. They eyed Lucina, bewildered, before speaking to Morgan again. “But whatever it is… it’s not unheard of. I was the same way. I don’t have any memory of my life before meeting Chrom. I suppose it runs in the family.”

“It seems that finding amnesiacs is my special talent,” Chrom muttered. “In any case… you’re among family now. You’ll join us, of course?”

“I’ll go with you wherever,” Morgan smiled. “Mom’s all I remember – and I’d like to remember more.”

“It’s a blessing you at least remember your mother,” Chrom said. He glanced at Lucina again. “Lucina didn’t say anything about you. I thought we’d found you all.”

Morgan shrugged. “I don’t know anything about that,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Lucina collected herself as best she could and moved to stand beside her family. Morgan looked up at her and smiled politely, but she couldn’t bring herself to smile back. There was no recognition in her little brother’s eyes.

“Don’t apologize,” she said. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Let’s find the Tear and head back to camp.”

“Are you talking about the Tear of Naga?” Morgan asked. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cloth bundle. He unwrapped it, revealing a teardrop-shaped orange gem roughly the size of his fist. “I think this is it? I found it buried over that way.”

“It is,” Chrom said, taking it from him and looking it over. Morgan watched him intently, eyes searching their father’s face like it was a text in an unfamiliar language. Lucina could see the gears in his head turning, but slipping, finding no purchase. He did not recognize their father at all.

A lump formed in Lucina’s throat.

“Let’s get you back to camp with us, then,” Robin smiled. “Maybe seeing everyone will jog your memory.”

“I hope so,” Morgan replied.

They all started back up the slope. Lucina led the way, keeping a few yards ahead of her family at all times, not looking back at them. Her heart was pounding and tears stung her eyes.

Somehow, somehow, he was here. He had forgotten her, had forgotten everyone and everything, had no inkling of the fate that had befallen him in the future from which he had come. As they drew closer to the center of the ruins again, she forced a look of composure.

This time, she reminded herself, she would let nothing touch him.

\- - -

Once the army had reconvened at camp, Lucina slipped away to her tent, avoiding everyone she saw, wanting to postpone questions as long as possible. She listened from a distance as the others were tearfully reunited with Morgan and fought back tears herself. She sank down onto her cot and buried her face in her hands.

“Lucina,” Chrom called gently from outside her tent.

She snapped her head up and brushed away her tears.

“Come in,” she called.

The tent flap opened and Chrom entered, a look of concern on his face. She forced a smile, but he didn’t return it.

“Hey,” he said, kneeling in front of her and resting a hand on her knee. “Are you all right?”

The concern in his voice dredged up old, old memories. She choked and hid her face again.

“Hey…”

Chrom’s hands moved to her shoulders. She let herself lean on him.

“Lucina, sweetheart – what happened?” Chrom sounded lost. “That boy – Morgan – you said he’s mine and Robin’s son, he’s your brother, but… You looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

Lucina took a few deep breaths. Her father waited patiently. When she looked up, he was looking at her, the beginnings of those worry lines she knew too well creasing his brow. He waited.

She spoke when she was ready.

“I… thought for a moment that I had,” she said.

Chrom stared at her. “You mean…”

Lucina took a long, shaky breath.

“Morgan,” she said, “is yours and Mother’s son. He… in my time…”

Another breath. Chrom took hold of her hands.

“…He… he was killed,” Lucina said. She bowed her head. “He… followed our mother when they joined Grima’s side. He was taken over by the forces that took them before him. He was made to do so much, to kill and harm so many… My party and I tried to reclaim him the night before we left, but…”

She paused. Chrom waited. Her heart was racing now. Her hands were freezing.

“In the end…” she croaked. “…he couldn’t be saved, and…

“Father, I had to… I had to cut him down.”

“Lucina…”

He sat up on his knees and pulled her close. Lucina let herself be held. He stroked her hair.

“You… had to make an incredibly difficult choice, I imagine,” Chrom said. “To abandon your brother to that fate, or to… to stop him.”

“He thanked me,” she wavered. “He thanked me when I did it, while he lay there dying by my hand…”

Chrom squeezed her.

“I… I’m so sorry that you had to go through that,” he said. “I’m sorry that your mother and I weren’t there to protect you from that. I’m sorry.”

Lucina closed her eyes.

“You must have been incredibly afraid. I’m sorry.”

She nodded.

Another quiet voice sounded from the tent entrance. “Lucina?”

Her mother’s voice. Lucina straightened up and Chrom let her go, resting his hand on her knee again.

“Come in,” Lucina wavered.

Robin entered and closed the tent flap behind them quickly. They knelt in front of Lucina, right beside Chrom. They looked at Lucina, concerned.

“Morgan is your brother,” they said.

Lucina nodded. Chrom looked up at her.

“Do you want me to tell them?” he asked quietly.

Grateful, Lucina nodded again. She pulled her knees up to her chest and waited as Chrom told Robin everything she had told him. When it was done, Robin stood up and hugged Lucina tight. She buried her face in her mother’s shoulder and tried to stifle her sobs.

“Shh, honey…” Robin said. “I’ve been talking to him – he really doesn’t seem to remember anything at all, as far as I can tell, but… if it would help you at all to talk to him, I can take you to him.”

“I don’t even know… how he’s here,” Lucina said. “He… he died. I took his life myself, we buried him, we buried him before we left…”

Chrom rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “There is much we do not understand about this world,” he said. “Whatever forces brought your brother back… perhaps we can simply be grateful for them, for now.”

Robin took her other hand. “We’ll all help keep him safe,” they said. “You won’t be alone. You’ll have all of us – your friends, your parents, everyone – right beside you.”

“I… can’t speak for the decisions made by the future us,” Chrom said, “but I can’t imagine myself making a decision I knew would harm my children. This time… I will be there for you. I will protect the two of you if it kills me.”

“It… did last time,” Lucina said.

“Well,” Chrom replied. “This time I won’t let it.”

\- - -

Lucina hesitated outside the entrance to Morgan’s tent. It took her a few minutes to get the nerve to call out. When she did, she didn’t have to wait for a response.

“Come in!” Morgan chirped.

Lucina slowly opened the flap and stepped inside.

There he was. Seated with his legs crossed in the middle of the floor, huddled over a book already. His chin was in his hands. He looked up at her as she walked in and straightened up, that bright smile firmly in place.

“You’re Lucina, right?” Morgan asked. “Mother was telling me about you.”

Lucina nodded stiffly, not meeting his eyes.

“I’m sorry I can’t remember you,” he went on. “I can’t remember anything but a few things about my mother.”

He paused and tilted his head to the side. “Or… our mother, huh. You’re my sister. It’s… weird to think about. I don’t remember…”

Lucina pressed her lips together and closed her eyes.

“You… you are my sister, right? I didn’t misunderstand? You look so much like Chrom – ”

“No,” Lucina interrupted, “No, I… I am.”

“My sister?”

She opened her eyes and looked down at him. He looked politely confused – but there was still that light in his eyes, those eyes she’d watched go dim in death – that light she hadn’t seen for years – Lucina wanted to throw her arms around him and never let him go, to somehow protect him from anything and everything that could ever do him harm…

She shook herself slightly and squared her shoulders.

“Your name is Morgan,” she said. “You’re seventeen years old… or… you were, when I knew you. Your birthday is the fifth of May. You want to be a tactician, just like our mother, more than anything, and you have done since you could barely talk. Your favorite food is apple pie and you’re afraid of the dark.”

Lucina choked. Morgan closed his book.

Lucina pushed the tears back, looked him in the eye, and finished –

“You’re my little brother, son of Robin and Chrom, and I swear I will protect you from anything this world has in store for us.”

 _This time_ , she added to herself. _This time, I will let nothing touch you._

Morgan blinked up at her. His smile was gone.

“Mom told me that… You and the others, you… traveled back in time, somehow,” he said.

“Yes, we did.”

“And in the future from which you came… the world was ending,” he went on. “It was being taken over by the fell dragon Grima and its supporters – whose mark…”

Morgan pulled off his right glove and showed Lucina the back of his hand. There it was – the dark purple crest of six eyes. A mark which had never surfaced anywhere on Lucina’s body. She did not know why, had never known why.

“…I bear on my right hand,” Morgan finished. “Our mother has it too. They wouldn’t tell me much about it.”

 _Thank you, Mother,_ Lucina thought.

“Something… happened to me in your time,” Morgan asked. “Didn’t it?”  
Lucina hesitated.

“…I failed you,” she said. “I failed you, and as a result, you…”

She couldn’t say it.

“…you weren’t able to come with us,” she finished, quietly. “You didn’t come back to this time with us.”

He tilted his head again, puzzled.

“But I’m here now,” he said. “How did that happen? If I wasn’t there when you did whatever you did to come back here…”

“I don’t know,” Lucina said. “None of us knows.”

“Well,” Morgan said brightly. “Maybe we’ll find out when I get my memories back.”

“Yes, I… I suppose we will.”

Morgan stood up and put his hands on his hips. He looked up at Lucina with another of those blinding bright smiles.

“Can I hug you?” he asked.

She nodded. He stepped forward and hugged her tight. She returned the hug cautiously, as if she were afraid of hurting him.

“There,” Morgan said, letting go. He patted her shoulder. “Now go get some sleep. You look exhausted.”

“Thank you, I will,” Lucina replied.

She turned and lifted the flap of the tent again.

“Ah, wait, Lucina,” Morgan called out. “One last thing.”

She looked back at him one more time. He was still smiling at her.

“I know I haven’t known you long – or at least, not that I can remember,” he said. “But… I already feel like I can trust you. I feel like I’ve known you all my life, even if I can’t remember any of it.

“And… I’m sure you didn’t fail me, Lucy. Whatever happened back then, I know you did everything you could. And I’m still here after all, huh? Whatever happened, I still made it. So you didn’t fail me at all.”

Lucina could barely breathe. His smile was so sincere, so light – and he was saying he trusted her, not knowing what she had done…

“I’m looking forward to remembering you, Lucy,” Morgan said. “I’m sure I have the best big sister in the world.”

He tilted his head again. “Lucy,” he said. “Did I call you that? Did I used to call you that?”

“Yes,” Lucina choked. “Yes, you did.”

Lucina did her best to return his smile and then departed the tent as gracefully as she could.

**Author's Note:**

> //rolls back into ao3 one year late with starbucks
> 
> there might be more of this sort of thing from me in the future, who really knows? nobody, least of all me
> 
> awakening is full of holes and i am going to fix them damn it.


End file.
